by A. A. Milne
It was a bright, sunny morning, and the windows stood wide open. They had carried the Boy out on to the balcony, wrapped in a shawl, and the little Rabbit lay tangled up among the bedclothes, thinking.
* * *
The Boy was going to the seaside to-morrow. Everything was arranged, and now it only remained to carry out the doctor's orders. They talked about it all, while the little Rabbit lay under the bedclothes, with just his head peeping out, and listened. The room was to be disinfected, and all the books and toys that the Boy had played with in bed must be burnt.
* * *
"Hurrah!" thought the little Rabbit. "To-morrow we shall go to the seaside!" For the Boy had often talked of the seaside, and he wanted very much to see the big waves coming in, and the tiny crabs, and the sand castles.
* * *
Just then Nana caught sight of him.
* * *
"How about his old Bunny?" she asked.
* * *
"That?" said the doctor. "Why, it’s a mass of scarlet fever germs!—Burn it at once. What? Nonsense! Get him a new one. He mustn’t have that any more!"
* * *
And so the little Rabbit was put into a sack with the old picture-books and a lot of rubbish, and carried out to the end of the garden behind the fowl-house. That was a fine place to make a bonfire, only the gardener was too busy just then to attend to it. He had the potatoes to dig and the green peas to gather, but next morning he promised to come quite early and burn the whole lot.
* * *
That night the Boy slept in a different bedroom, and he had a new bunny to sleep with him. It was a splendid bunny, all white plush with real glass eyes, but the Boy was too excited to care very much about it. For to-morrow he was going to the seaside, and that in itself was such a wonderful thing that he could think of nothing else.
* * *
And while the Boy was asleep, dreaming of the seaside, the little Rabbit lay among the old picture-books in the corner behind the fowlhouse, and he felt very lonely. The sack had been left untied, and so by wriggling a bit he was able to get his head through the opening and look out. He was shivering a little, for he had always been used to sleeping in a proper bed, and by this time his coat had worn so thin and threadbare from hugging that it was no longer any protection to him. Near by he could see the thicket of raspberry canes, growing tall and close like a tropical jungle, in whose shadow he had played with the Boy on bygone mornings. He thought of those long sunlit hours in the garden—how happy they were—and a great sadness came over him. He seemed to see them all pass before him, each more beautiful than the other, the fairy huts in the flower-bed, the quiet evenings in the wood when he lay in the bracken and the little ants ran over his paws; the wonderful day when he first knew that he was Real. He thought of the Skin Horse, so wise and gentle, and all that he had told him. Of what use was it to be loved and lose one’s beauty and become Real if it all ended like this? And a tear, a real tear, trickled down his little shabby velvet nose and fell to the ground.
* * *
And then a strange thing happened. For where the tear had fallen a flower grew out of the ground, a mysterious flower, not at all like any that grew in the garden. It had slender green leaves the colour of emeralds, and in the centre of the leaves a blossom like a golden cup. It was so beautiful that the little Rabbit forgot to cry, and just lay there watching it. And presently the blossom opened, and out of it there stepped a fairy.
* * *
She was quite the loveliest fairy in the whole world. Her dress was of pearl and dewdrops, and there were flowers round her neck and in her hair, and her face was like the most perfect flower of all. And she came close to the little Rabbit and gathered him up in her arms and kissed him The lovely fairy brings magic to the story. on his velveteen nose that was all damp from crying.
* * *
"Little Rabbit," she said, "don't you know who I am?"
* * *
The Rabbit looked up at her, and it seemed to him that he had seen her face before, but he couldn't think where.
* * *
"I am the nursery magic Fairy," she said. "I take care of all the playthings that the children have loved. When they are old and worn out and the children don't need them any more, then I come and take them away with me and turn them into Real."
* * *
"Wasn't I Real before?" asked the little Rabbit.
* * *
"You were Real to the Boy," the Fairy said, "because he loved you. Now you shall be real to every one."
* * *
And she held the little Rabbit close in her arms and flew with him into the wood.
* * *
It was light now, for the moon had risen. All the forest was beautiful, and the fronds of the bracken shone like frosted silver. In the open glade between the tree-trunks the wild rabbits danced with their shadows on the velvet grass, but when they saw the Fairy they all stopped dancing and stood round in a ring to stare at her.
* * *
"I’ve brought you a new playfellow," the Fairy said. "You must be very kind to him and teach him all he needs to know in Rabbitland, for he is going to live with you for ever and ever!"
* * *
And she kissed the little Rabbit again and put him down on the grass.
* * *
"Run and play, little Rabbit!" she said.
* * *
But the little Rabbit sat quite still for a moment and never moved. For when he saw all the wild rabbits dancing around him he suddenly remembered about his hind legs, and he didn’t want them to see that he was made all in one piece. He did not know that when the Fairy kissed him that last time she had changed him altogether. And he might have sat there a long time, too shy to move, if just then something hadn't tickled his nose, and before he thought what he was doing he lifted his hind toe to scratch it.
* * *
And he found that he actually had hind legs! Instead of dingy velveteen he had brown fur, soft and shiny, his ears twitched by themselves, and his whiskers were so long that they brushed the grass. He gave one leap and the joy of using those hind legs was so great that he went springing about the turf on them, jumping sideways and whirling round as the others did, and he grew so excited that when at last he did stop to look for the Fairy she had gone.
* * *
He was a Real Rabbit at last, at home with the other rabbits.
* * *
Autumn passed and Winter, and in the Spring, when the days grew warm and sunny, the Boy went out to play in the wood behind the house. And while he was playing, two rabbits crept out from the bracken and peeped at him. One of them was brown all over, but the other had strange markings under his fur, as though long ago he had been spotted, and the spots still showed through. And about his little soft nose and his round black eyes there was something familiar, so that the Boy thought to himself:
* * *
"Why, he looks just like my old Bunny that was lost when I had scarlet fever!"
* * *
But he never knew that it really was his own Bunny, come back to look at the child who had first helped him to be Real.
A Letter from Santa Claus
Mark Twain
A Letter from Santa Claus
Palace of Saint Nicholas in the Moon
Christmas Morning
* * *
My Dear Susy Clemens,
* * *
I have received and read all the letters which you and your little
sister have written me . . . . I can read your and your baby
sister's jagged and fantastic marks without any trouble at all. But
I had trouble with those letters which you dictated through your
mother and the nurses, for I am a foreigner and cannot read English
writing well. You will find that I made no mistakes about the things
which you and the baby ordered in your own letters--I went down your
chimney at midnight when you were asleep and deliver
ed them all
myself--and kissed both of you, too . . . . But . . . there
were . . . one or two small orders which I could not fill because we
ran out of stock . . . .
* * *
There was a word or two in your mama's letter which . . . I took to
be "a trunk full of doll's clothes." Is that it? I will call at your
kitchen door about nine o'clock this morning to inquire. But I must
not see anybody and I must not speak to anybody but you. When the
kitchen doorbell rings, George must be blindfolded and sent to the
door. You must tell George he must walk on tiptoe and not speak--
otherwise he will die someday. Then you must go up to the nursery
and stand on a chair or the nurse's bed and put your ear to the
speaking tube that leads down to the kitchen and when I whistle
through it you must speak in the tube and say, "Welcome, Santa
Claus!" Then I will ask whether it was a trunk you ordered or not.
If you say it was, I shall ask you what color you want the trunk to
be . . . and then you must tell me every single thing in detail
which you want the trunk to contain. Then when I say "Good-by and a
merry Christmas to my little Susy Clemens," you must say "Good-by,
good old Santa Claus, I thank you very much." Then you must go down
into the library and make George close all the doors that open into
the main hall, and everybody must keep still for a little while. I
will go to the moon and get those things and in a few minutes I will
come down the chimney that belongs to the fireplace that is in the
hall--if it is a trunk you want--because I couldn't get such a thing
as a trunk down the nursery chimney, you know . . . .If I should
leave any snow in the hall, you must tell George to sweep it into
the fireplace, for I haven't time to do such things. George must not
use a broom, but a rag--else he will die someday . . . . If my boot
should leave a stain on the marble, George must not holystone it
away. Leave it there always in memory of my visit; and whenever you
look at it or show it to anybody you must let it remind you to be a
good little girl. Whenever you are naughty and someone points to
that mark which your good old Santa Claus's boot made on the marble,
what will you say, little sweetheart?
* * *
Good-by for a few minutes, till I come down to the world and ring the kitchen doorbell.
Your loving Santa Claus
Whom people sometimes call
"The Man in the Moon"
Christmas with Grandma Elsie
Martha Finley
Chapter 1
It was about the middle of November. There had been a long rain storm, ending in sleet and snow, and now the sun was shining brightly on a landscape sheeted with ice: walks and roads were slippery with it, every tree and shrub was encased in it, and glittering and sparkling as if loaded with diamonds, as its branches swayed and tossed in the wind. At Ion Mrs. Elsie Travilla stood at the window of her dressing-room gazing with delighted eyes upon the lovely scene.
“How beautiful!” she said softly to herself; “and my Father made it all. ’He gives snow like wool: he scattereth the hoar frost like ashes. He casteth forth his ice like morsels.’
“Ah, good morning, my dears,” as the door opened and Rosie and Walter came in together.
“Good morning, dearest mamma,” they returned, hastening to her to give and receive the affectionate kiss with which they were accustomed to meet at the beginning of a new day.
“I’m so glad the long storm is over at last,” said Rosie; “it is really delightful to see the sunshine once more.”
“And the beautiful work of the Frost king reflecting his rays,” added her mother, calling their attention to the new beauties of the ever attractive landscape spread out before them.
Both exclaimed in delight “How beautiful, mamma!” Rosie adding, “It must be that the roads are in fine condition for sleighing. I hope we can go.”
“O mamma, can’t we?” cried Walter. “Won’t you give us a holiday?”
“I shall take the question into consideration,” she answered with an indulgent smile; “we will perhaps discuss it at the breakfast table: but now we will have our reading together.”
At that very time Capt. Raymond and Violet in her boudoir at Woodburn, were also discussing the state of the roads and the advisability of dispensing with school duties for the day that all the family might enjoy the rather rare treat of a sleigh-ride.
“You would enjoy it, my love?” he said inquiringly.
“Very much— in company with my husband and the children,” she returned; “yet I would not wish to influence you to decide against your convictions in regard to what is right and wise.”
“We will go,” he said, smiling fondly upon her, “I can not bear to have you miss the pleasure; nor the children either for that matter, though I am a little afraid I might justly be deemed weakly indulgent in according them a holiday again so soon: it is against my principles to allow lessons to be set aside for other than very weighty reasons; it is a matter of so great importance that they be trained to put duties first, giving pleasure a secondary place.”
“But they are so good and industrious,” said Violet, “and the sleighing is not likely to last long. It seldom does with us.”
“And they have been so closely confined to the house of late, by the inclemency of the weather,” he added. “Yes: they shall go; for it will do them a great deal of good physically, I think, and health is, after all, of more consequence for them than rapid advancement in their studies.”
“I should think so indeed,” said Violet. “Now the next question is where shall we go?”
“That is a question for my wife to settle,” returned the captain gallantly. “I shall be most happy to accompany her wherever she decides that she wishes to be taken.”
“Thank you, sir. I want to see mamma, of course.”
“Then we will call at Ion, and perhaps may be able to persuade mother to join us in a longer ride.”
“Oh couldn’t we hire an omnibus sleigh and ask them all to join us? It would just about hold the two families.”
“It is a trifle odd that the same idea had just occurred to me,” he remarked pleasantly. “I will telephone at once to the town, and if I can engage a suitable sleigh, will call to Ion and give our invitation.”
The reply from the village was satisfactory; also that from Ion, given by Grandpa Dinsmore, who said he would venture to accept the invitation for all the family without waiting to consult them.
The captain reported to Violet, then passed on into the apartments of his little daughters. He found them up and dressed, standing at the window of their sitting-room gazing out into the grounds.
“Good morning, my darlings,” he said.
“Oh good morning, papa,” they cried, turning and running into his outstretched arms to give and receive tenderest caresses.
“What were you looking at?” he asked presently.
“Oh! oh! the loveliest sight!” cried Lulu. “Do, papa, come and look,” taking his hand and drawing him toward the window. “There, isn’t it?”
“Yes; I have seldom seen a finer,” he assented.
“And the sun is shining so brightly; can’t I take a walk with you to-day?” she asked, looking coaxingly up into his face.
“Why, my child, the walks and roads are sheeted with ice; you could not stand, much less walk on them.”
“I think I could, papa, if— if you’d only let me try. But oh don’t look troubled, for indeed, indeed, I’m not going to be naughty about it, though I have been shut up in the house for so long, except just riding in the close carriage to church yesterday.”
>
“Yes; and I know it has been hard for you,” he said, smoothing her hair with caressing hand.
Then sitting down he drew her to one knee, Gracie to the other.
“How would my little girls like to be excused from lessons to-day and given, instead, a sleigh-ride with papa, mamma, Max and little Elsie?”
“Oh ever so much, papa!” they cried, clapping their hands in delight. “How good in you to think of it!”
“’Specially for me, considering how very, very naughty I was only last week,” added Lulu, in a remorseful tone. “Papa, I really think I oughtn’t to be let go.”
“And I really think I should not be deprived of the pleasure of having my dear eldest daughter with me on this first sleigh-ride of the season,” returned her father, drawing her into a closer embrace.
“And it would spoil all the fun for me to have you left at home, Lu,” said Grace.
“And that must not be; we will all go, and I trust will have a very pleasant time,” the captain said, rising and taking a hand of each to lead them down to the breakfast-room, for the bell was ringing.
At Ion the family were gathering about the table to partake of their morning meal. Walter waited rather impatiently till the blessing had been asked, then, with an entreating look at his mother, said, “Mamma, you know what you promised?”
